


Blackmail

by ritsuko



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Abuse, Blackmail, Blow Jobs, Bondage, Breakfast in Bed, Butt Plugs, Cock Cages, Dom/sub, Dubious Consent, Elevator Sex, Forced Relationship, Hand Jobs, Humiliation, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Nightmares, Nipple Clamps, Nipple Play, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Pain, Puppy Play, Rough Sex, Secret Relationship, Sex Toys, Spanking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-09-07
Updated: 2014-04-10
Packaged: 2017-12-25 21:24:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 6
Words: 18,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/957754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ritsuko/pseuds/ritsuko
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pavel didn't realize just how much of himself he would sacrifice for his happiness. But can you truly be happy if you are manipulated?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Pavel can't stand the thought that his boyfriend will see. The bruises, the bite marks, the abused state of his asshole. He purposely showers before he comes home to the small apartment they share when not on the Enterprise, lying and telling Hikaru that he's been at the gym. The other man just snuggles him close, ruffles his curls and kisses him deeply.

"You're perfect just the way you are." He states, love thick in his voice.

Pavel hates himself. Hates the lies. But he can't bear to tell Sulu the truth.

That he sold his soul to the devil just to be close to him.

When it's time for bed, Hikaru strokes his cheek and leads him to the bedroom. The helmsman tries to keep the lights on, but Pavel blushes, pretending to be shy, insisting on darkness. Finally Hikaru concedes, he always does. 

They lay in the darkness, softly touching each other, and the navigator is glad that his boyfriend cannot see him wince as he strokes his already sensitive nipples, not able to see how swollen they are from harsh pinching and biting. How his cock is already spent, flagging from orgasming too many times earlier in the evening. Pavel clenches his ass as tightly as he can when Hikaru slips lube slicked fingers in, ashamed that he might not be as tight as his boyfriend deserves. The other man doesn't seem to notice, crooning sweet nothings and I love yous into Pavel's ear, before thrusting in gently. The young man still keens, overly sensitive area being invaded yet again. He can't help but moan wantonly as his lover picks up pace, slamming into him expertly, hitting his prostate on every thrust. Although he has already been used this night, he can still come for his Hikaru.

Afterwards, Sulu pets him and holds him, tells him how much he loves him.

Pavel hates himself even more.

A message light goes on nearly an hour later on Pavel's PADD, lying next to the nightstand. He has had to keep it with him at all times, just in case he is summoned. He groans internally, fingers shaking as he ducks out from under his boyfriend's arm, and grabs for it.

_Be here in ten minutes. Be prepared._

The young man swallows thickly, but quickly slips out of the bed, grabbing for his clothes and satchel before rushing to the bathroom. Quickly he starts to dress, but then winces as he takes an object out of his bag, one that will incur his torturer's wrath if he isn't wearing it. He hisses as he slides the plug inside himself, biting back a sob at the burn and humiliation it brings. Pavel couldn't have worn it home, nor could he have let Hikaru fuck him while he was full of another man's cum. And yet, he is preparing himself to do it again. A fat tear of shame spills down his cheek, which he quickly wipes away, and throws the rest of his clothes on. Simple jogging pants and a hoodie should suffice, at this hour, no one will be looking for him in uniform.

He exits the bathroom and stares at his boyfriend, asleep and lightly snoring for another moment, before brushing a hand through raven hair and kissing the other man's temple. Hikaru is smiling in his sleep. He surely wouldn't be if he knew what his lover was going off to do. As he straightens, the plug brushes his sweet spot, and Pavel has to bite his lip to not make a sound. 

By the time he is out the door, there are only six minutes left. Pavel breaks into a jog, knowing that if he is late, there will be hell to pay. He can't help buy pant lightly as his ass starts to burn, plug jiggling against his prostate and making the pace nearly unbearable. He thinks that he is given so little time just so he can be punished. 

When he gets to the sleek building that houses upperclass condominiums, he has only two minutes left. Cursing lightly in Russian under his breath, he makes a dash for the elevators. He waits in front of the doors, hopping from foot to foot, groaning at the time it's taking. He is about to run for the stairs when he hears familiar voices coming through the front doors behind him, and he panics, ducking behind a large potted bush in the foyer that is next to the elevator, just in time as Captain Kirk and Commander Spock walk up to the elevator doors, engrossed in conversation. Pavel ducks, turning his head away hoping beyond all hope that he will not be seen. He is thankful that he chose to wear the hoodie, at least it is pulled up over his brown curls. It should have been obvious to him that the building was inhabited by mostly higher class officers, but never having been to Kirk or Spock's quarters, there is no way that he would have ever known. 

Jim is laughing and elbowing Spock, talking about some thing that had just evidently happened. "Seriously though, I didn't really think that you were going to be able to pick up that guy like that and throw him halfway across the bar!"

The Vulcan looks irritated, even though the Pavel can barely tell on that neutral face. But perhaps it has something to do with the stain on his jacket and shirt, very trendy and not something that he would have ever imagined the other man in, not that he had ever seen Spock out of uniform. "Naturally, if someone is going to insult my captain like that, I am going to react adversely. Besides, he threw that drink all over these clothes. I no longer felt the need to have him in our personal space."

Pavel blushes at the way that the first officer says 'our personal space'. There have been rumors going around the Enterprise about the two, but between Jim's naturally flirty attitude and Spock's naturally nonchalant demeanor no one has seen anything to legitimize it. But the young navigator can see in their body language, the way they look at each other, that the two men are most definitely a couple. 

It's what he and Hikaru should be. 

The elevator doors open and Jim grasps the Vulcan's hand, tugging him in with a roguish look on his face. He says something under his breath, and Spock uncharacteristically blushes green. Pavel almost blushes himself at the thought that something slightly naughty might be happening in the elevator at this very minute between his higher ups, and then gasps, checking the time.

He's one minute late.

Tears burn behind his eyes as he slams open the door to the stairwell and darts up them, taking two at a time. He only needs to make it to the seventh floor, and maybe, just maybe, he will not be in trouble.

His ass convulses around the plug, rubbing him and coating his insides with an insatiable heat, he finally makes it to the top, and peeks into the hallway, relieved that he does not see his shipmates, and sprints to the door at the end. Pavel licks his lips nervously and raises his hand to knock. 

The door swings open before he gets a chance, the entry bathed in darkness. Pavels swallows, fearful of the wrath he knows he is going to incur. An LED light from the depths of the room displays three minutes after the time he was supposed to be there. Tentatively, he steps into the room, breath still ragged from running. 

He is enveloped in darkness as the door slams shut behind him. "You're late." Comes the growl from behind him. He shivers, tears still prevalent behind his eyes. Pavel wills them not to fall, at least not yet. He knows that the other man will want to see them.

"I am wery sorry, Master, zhere was a problem wizh zhe elevator-" Pavel cries out as his ass is slapped roughly. It does nothing but jar the plug inside him causing his cry to taper to a slight whimper.

"Are you making excuses, bitch?" The man growls, and Pavel shakes his head adamantly.

"No, Master, I am wery, wery sorry. I hawe been wery bad." The younger man manages to choke out, noting that his eyes are adjusting to the room. He can see the San Francisco skyline through the windows, lights beautiful and twinkling. So much better than the shadows inside.

The man goes to a wingback chair next to the window, and the light falls across his face, revealing the grim demeanor of Admiral Marcus. "Strip." The older man commands, and Pavel quickly, fearfully complies. It is cold in the room, and the young man's nipples are painfully hard. He doesn't bother to try and cover himself, just stands there naked and shivering. "Get over here."

Pavel sinks to his knees without any hesitation, crawling his way over to Marcus' feet. He knows that this is ultimately the way that the older man wants him, on his knees and subservient. When he is finally at the older man's feet, he kisses the other man's shoes, and nuzzles his legs. Marcus glowers at him and grabs him by his curls, forcing him to lay over his lap, legs on off of one side and arms off of the other. 

"I don't like to be kept waiting."

"I tried to make it here in time, Master, I truly did-" The hand comes out of nowhere, cracking along his buttocks hard enough to bruise and Pavel yelps in pain, tears finally falling. 

"I don't care what you're doing, boy, next time I comm you, you get here now." The hand slaps against his exposed ass again, eliciting another cry of pain. "Not three minutes late," WHACK "Not three seconds late." WHACK "You get here now. I don't care if you run here naked. You're mine." WHACK WHACK WHACK "Don't you forget it." Marcus growls, deadly with his accuracy over the plug, slamming into it over and over as the younger man's cheeks jiggle from the force. Pavel is sure he won't be able to sit tomorrow.

"Yes Master. I promise, Master!" Pavel wails, pain sharp in his mind. Marcus reaches down to tug on his cock, already shamefully hard and leaking against the leg of the Admiral's trousers.

"You're making a mess, slut."

"I am sorry Master, please, please let me please you." Pavel moans, tears dribbling down his face as that hand continues to redden his ass cheeks. There is a slight pause from the admiral, and then Pavel shrieks as the plug is wrenched from him, hole convulsing from the sudden emptiness.

He is not empty for long, as Marcus shoves two fingers into him harshly, scissoring and pistoning with a maddened fervor. The fingers are dry, and the only consolation is the slight slickness of Hikaru's cum still thick in his hole. Pavel bucks against the fingers, moaning as they expertly stoke his sweet spot. Tears start to subside, the pain becoming slightly more tolerable. 

Suddenly he is pushed from the other man's lap, onto the hardwood floor. Pavel squeaks as the fingers wrench from him, and can hear the admiral's zipper being tugged down. Pavel looks up, Marcus' cock thick and bobbing in the city light streaming through the window. He swallows roughly, then climbs to his knees, licking experimentally at the tip. The taste is salty, sweaty, bitter. Not pleasant. Not like Hikaru. But then, Marcus is nothing like Hikaru.

"Keep fingering yourself, whore." The Admiral spits at him, and shuddering, Pavel brings his fingers around, pressing deeply into his hole with a slight whimper. His pink tongue darts out, massaging Marcus' head and positions himself better so that he can take the other man further into himself. It's not an easy task, the Admiral has an impressive cock for an older man. This might have actually been an enjoyable task had there been any love or admiration around the act. Pavel is careful to avoid scraping his teeth along the length, when he has in the past on accident he was thoroughly punished. 

Marcus reaches into the drawer next to his chair, and the younger man stiffens. With a growl, his cheek is slapped lightly and the navigator blinks back tears of shame. Nothing good has ever come out of the drawer, at least nothing that has ever been good for him. The admiral always seems to find amusement from his little toys. 

He closes his eyes, trying to focus on the cock in his mouth, tongue slicking the underside of the shaft and rubbing over every vein, when he inhales sharply at his left nipple being pinched, stroked into a pebbled hardness before something is clamped onto it. Pavel mewls around the dick in his mouth, the clamp is painful around his already abused bud. Slowly he peeks up at the admiral through the black lace of his lashes, only to note the second clamp in Marcus' hand. His other is already playing with his other nipple, and Pavel groans helplessly around the older man's cock. In the moonlight, he can see the tiny serrated teeth of the clamp, as well as a chain tipped in a small weight. Already the clamp on his left nipple is unbearable, the weight swinging slowly back and forth and stretching him. Pavel's cheeks start to redden in shame, imploring the older man not to clamp down on the other, to no avail. The little teeth dig into sensitive flesh, and Pavel nearly shrieks around the cock in his mouth. 

The admiral grins. "You're always the prettiest when you're crying, Ensign." Marcus strokes the side of the younger man's cheek, before reaching up to ruffle the other man's hair, pushing the younger man down further on his engorged prick. Pavel whimpers slightly as he feels the head against the back of his throat, forcing himself to breath around the thick cock in his mouth. Another fat tear rolls out of the corner of his eye as he swallows around the man, trying to relax, but the admiral firmly pushes him down until his nose is nestled in coarse pubic hair. Pavel has to force himself to keep calm and keep breathing, sometimes Marcus will hold him like this just reveling in the feel of the tight slick heat around him as long as possible, treating Pavel like a fuck toy. The younger man just stays as still as he can possibly manage, closing his eyes and inhaling the sour sweat smell that is distinctly Marcus.

He eyes flash open as Marcus' comm goes off, and to the Russian's dismay, is answered.

"Carol, how good of you to call. Just getting up?" The Admiral's deep voice resonates through his body, cock twitching in the younger man's mouth.

The soft soprano of Carol's voice carries through the comm on the PADD that Marcus is now holding. "Yes daddy, ready to go to work. How have you been?"

Pavel stays stock still, speared and given no thought at all. He slows his fingers in his ass, but a warning tug on his curls causes his breath to hitch, and he stabs into himself again with a renewed fervor. As fucked up as Marcus wanting to do this with his daughter on the phone is, he knows better than to incur the other man's wrath. 

"Same old, same old. You know it's a busy life being at the top of Starfleet." He chuckles, lighthearted and kind. Pavel is taken aback by the display, that the man could act so human while doing an act so cold where his family could not see. The admiral strokes the side of his face, and Pavel starts to get lulled into a sort of manic euphoria. His eyelids start to droop, fingers in his ass stroking against his prostate. Pavel doesn't dare moan, but can feel his cock leaking and the weights tugging back and forth like mini pendulums on his chest. The momentum makes it hard not to rut into the air, craving any form of relief for his swollen cock. Marcus continues to pat him soothingly as he talks to his daughter, and the younger man starts to fade out, sensations wracking his body becoming overwhelming.

Suddenly the other man's fist tightens in his hair, and Pavel has to dig his free hand into the chair leg to keep from biting down. His eyes search upwards, but the admiral is focused on the view screen, face stoic. 

"Who are you talking about, Carol?" The admiral's tone is inquisitive, but his hands are shaking with fury. The Russian winces, it feels like half of his hair is going to be ripped out. 

"That man, your new assistant. Harrison, I think? I saw him the other day at the café. Tried to say hello, but I'm not sure that he likes me. He ran off pretty fast." The blonde girl chuckled, but it is evident by her tone that she is not ignored very much. The grip on his hair relaxes slightly.

"John is a very busy man, honey. I'm sure he wasn't trying to be rude. Plus," Marcus teased, "Not everyone would be excited at the prospect of you taking them home to meet me."

"Oh daddy!" She laughs, but sounds a little annoyed by her over protective father. As if the danger is out of the way, not that Pavel has ever met Harrison or knows who he is, Pavel sighs softly as the admiral tugs up on his hair, a signal to start sucking. He starts to bob up and down along the thick cock, as quietly as possible so as not to alert Marcus' daughter of the dark things going on.

The action only succeeds in making the Russian harder, something he feels incredibly ashamed of. His tongue lathes away at the admiral, once again slipping into a half daydream of happier, brighter things. If only he were fingering himself and sucking Sulu-

He nearly chokes as Marcus comes unexpectedly, hand again clenched in his curls, forcing him to drink it all. Just the feel is enough to set him over the edge, and soon he is spurting all over the hardwood floor. Pavel's eyes roll back into his head, clamps bobbing back and forth, fingers slipping from his ass. Marcus pulls him from his cock and lets him slump to the floor, panting softly and shivering.

"You have a good day sweetheart, I love you." Marcus drawls, eyes sincere on his daughters face while he prods Chekov with his boot. 

"I love you too dad. Sleep well."

The light in the room from the PADD clicks off, bathing the room in blackness again. Slowly, Pavel peeks up at the admiral's face to find him staring down in contemplation. They look at each other a long moment, before the corner of Marcus' mouth turns up into a slightly creepy smirk. 

"Lick. It. Up." Marcus states coldly, and Pavels eyes shift submissively downwards. It's hard to see the splatter of his own come on the floorboards, but he sticks his tongue out and starts to lick at the darker spots on the woodgrain. He is rewarded with the salty hot taste and swallows thickly, but at least it is not more of Marcus' load. He circles around the spot, trying hard to make sure that he has gotten every bit possible, fully knowing that if he misses a drop he will regret it. 

Behind him the chair creaks and Marcus pets his ass soothingly. Pavel shivers, but the touch is warm and soft. He feels like a little pet, lapping his meal and getting affection from his owner. 

"You leave on a mission tomorrow, correct?" Marcus is all business. Pavel can hear the other man fishing around in his drawer, and suppresses a shudder.

"Yes, Master. Ve vill be going to-" The ensign starts, but the admiral cuts him off, grabbing underneath his body to his cock. The young man trembles slightly, but forces himself to stay still. He can feel the admiral tugging something around his flaccid cock, and momentarily panics, bucking away from the other man until he is struck again across the buttocks. Quickly he regains composure, allowing the older man to place his dick into a hard contraption that feels like it is totally encompassing him, but tucking behind his balls. Then he realizes that Marcus is locking it.

"Master, please-" Pavel's voice rips into a short scream as Marcus rips the nipple clamps from his chest, barely opening the teeth so that they scrape along the sensitive flesh. Tears slip from his eyes as his body buckles, arms useless on the ground but ass still propped in the air.

"You'll only be gone a week. You can still piss through that thing, but the only one whose allowed to touch that is me. When you get back, your first order after debriefing is to come to me. Is that clear?"

Pavel nods, cheek to the floor, hiccuping though his tears. "Yes, Master."

"Good." Marcus rises from his seat and makes his way out of the room. "Now get out."

Shakily, the young man rises to his feet, encumbered by the device around him. Now that he can look down, the device is like a small cage around his cock, made of a kind of clear plastic, with a slit in the tip for urine to pass through. He groans inwardly but dares not make a sound, still trying to calm his hiccups. He gathers his clothes and puts them on, trying to avoid the cloth from rubbing against his nipples, but they chafe. His crotch bulges obscenely through his pants. How will he keep this a secret? 

Pulling his hoodie up to hide his face, he goes to the door as quickly as he can manage, lest the admiral come back out and want something else from him. Moving is uncomfortable. How will he be able to work? How can he even go home to his boyfriend? A slight jog down the hall is nearly unbearable, his ass on fire and his cheeks tears stained and burning with shame. His cock entrapped and discomforting. 

Pavel slips into an open elevator, and lets out a shaky breath when the doors close, mirrored backing reflecting an image of himself he hardly recognizes, disheveled and debauched, not a navigator on a starship. It takes all of his resolve not to hysterically burst into tears. Instead he bites his lip, tears uncontrollably welling in his eyes. He hangs his head and lets the tears fall.

When the elevator doors slide open he starts to jog out, and immediately slams into another person. Pavel lets out a small cry as the cage is jostled, and then looks up through tear flecked lashes. A man in black is gazing neutrally down at him, and the young man can't help but blush deeper, this man is seriously one of the most, if not the most, attractive person that he has ever seen. Jet black hair, high cheekbones, bow lips. An obviously toned body. And the most piercing eyes he has ever seen. He can't tell if they are, blue, or green, or something else in between.

The elevator beeps at him that he is in the way of the door closing, and he jumps. How long has he been staring? He immediately drops his gaze to the floor and bustles past the other man. "Sorry. I am sorry, sir." He escapes out the front doors, but has the distinct feeling that he is still being watched, but when he turns to look back through the windows, the man is gone. 

Pavel starts to make his way back to his and his boyfriends apartment, but stops in his tracks. How can he go there without Hikaru figuring it out? Especially if he tries to touch him? He can't go back. But there's nowhere that he can go. Pavel tries to hold back a sniffle as he starts walking again aimlessly. It's time like this that he wishes he could get into a bar, drown out his sorrows and ignore his problems. Instead, he makes his way to a 24 hour diner, shifts awkwardly into a booth, and stares at a cup of coffee that a waitress pours him until sunrise, feeling like the worst person in the entire world.

Like Starfleet was the worst decision he ever made in his life.


	2. K/S Interlude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Going up, or going down?

The evening couldn't have possibly been any worse. Not only had Jim talked Spock into going out clubbing, something that was extremely outside of the Vulcan's comfort level, but the other man had had more than his fair share of drinks. Things had gotten out of hand when the blonde wouldn't stop gyrating out on the dance floor much to the discomfort of his boyfriend of sorts, who had a hard time of holding his drink awkwardly while others whispered lewd things about wanting to either a) fuck the blonde's brains out or b) bribe the Vulcan out onto the dance floor so they could judge if he was fuckable. By the time the third person had groped Spock's ass, he had had enough.

Jim is laughing and elbowing Spock, amusement clear on his face. "Seriously though, I didn't really think that you were going to be able to pick up that guy like that and throw him halfway across the bar!"

The Vulcan looks irritated, even for a Vulcan. He glances down at his borrowed clothes, tight ripped jeans and a fitted v-neck tee shirt hugging all of his form. "Naturally, if someone is going to insult my captain like that, I am going to react adversely. Besides, he threw that drink all over these clothes. I no longer felt the need to have him in our personal space." Spock notes a slight movement to the side of the elevator, someone clad in workout clothes of some sort, but can't make out any features due to the person's pulled up hood. His face remains neutral, even as he fights off a flush of embarrassment at the disarray and totally unprofessional look of his clothing.

The elevator doors open and Jim grasps the Vulcan's hand, tugging him in with a roguish look on his face. "I'd like to get you out of those clothes," Jim whispers, intentions evident in his crystal blue eyes, and Spock uncharacteristically blushes green. The doors to the elevator close as Jim sinks to his knees. 

"Jim!" Spock amonishes, shock clear in his features, but really, with a boyfriend like the blonde, how can he be so shocked? Jim smirks up at him, massaging his cock through alcohol drenched fabric, and Spock cannot help but lean back against the wall of the elevator, breath hitching. Jim knows all of his buttons, is the only one who can make him fail so miserably at being Vulcan, to undo him into becoming human. The zipper pulls down, and the warm air of Jim's breath ghosts his cock, deft fingers pulling him out and exposing himself to the air. "Jim. . . you will not finish before the elevator gets to our floor."

With his other hand, the captain reaches out and taps the emergency stop button on the console, grinning as his tongue flicks out to lick the tip. Spock shudders, and Jim takes more of him into his mouth. He feels so good around him, as if his member is encased in velvet, hot and slick, and his prick twitches in satisfaction. Jim lathes at him, running his tongue alonge the underside, working at green tinged veins and ever so slowly sliding to the base. The Vulcan chokes down a moan, trying so hard not to let emotion escape him, but Jim grabs his ass tight and hums, slamming all the way down. 

It's everything that Spock can do to not start thrusting forward into that sweet warmth, and he lets out an unabashed moan as Jim starts to fondle his balls, rolling and massaging the expertly in the palm of one hand, even as his other hand starts to seek out the puckered orifice between his cheeks. The Vulcan pants slightly, squeezing his eyes shut as Kirk pulls off to the head, swirls his tongue around the tip and impales himself again. And repeats.

Spock doesn't know how Jim has no gag reflex, either years of experience or the man is just lucky. There are definitely times that the Vulcan feels inadequate compared to his partner, but he allows his eyes to open a crack, and sees his captain watching his face with a look akin to adoration on his face, and it's all Spock needs.

He sees stars as he explodes inside Jim's mouth, and the blonde sucks all of it down, even licking away the excess come on his cock as he pulls away. Immediately, the Vulcan realizes that he has not reciprocated any pleasure to the captain, but Kirk just tucks Spock back into the borrowed pants, zips them, and plants a kiss on his crotch. Spock grabs the other man by the front of his shirt and pulls him up, mashing their lips together.

It's not logical, what he feels for the other man. That he even feels it at all. But it is there, palpable, quivering, like a little heartbeat. He wonders if Jim can feel it too. 

"Is everything all right in there?" A voice comes over the comm, and Spock looks away, barely able to believe that he has forgotten where they were and what they were doing. 

"Oops, sorry, I guess that I hit the stop button and didn't realize it. Sorry!" Jim apologizes in a voice that oozes charisma, and hits the button so that the elevator starts up again. Spock absentmindedly tugs at the shirt and pants, smoothing them back into place. He can tell that the captain is staring at him, and hopes that his ears aren't turning green. When the doors open, they enter the hall down to the Captain's apartment. As soon as he keys into the room, Spock presses him into the wall in the darkness, holding onto him like he is a life raft in the middle of stormy seas. Jim laughs softly.

"Is everything alright, Spock?"

The Vulcan seeks out those lips in the dark. 

Yes. Everything is as it should be.


	3. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back to the Enterprise.

The first shuttle for the Enterprise has left by the time Pavel makes his way back to the apartment, fully well knowing that Hikaru will have been on it. Shame wells inside him as he finds a note on the pillow of his side of the bed.

_Hey baby, not sure where you were off to at such early hours of the morning, but I packed for you just in case you were running late, I'll put your things on the ship. I made you a little something to eat, no big deal, but it will beat replicator food for the next week. It's in the fridge. Love you, and hope you're having an excellent day! See you soon! <3_

Pavel stares dully at the slip of paper, running fingertips over the helmsman's handwriting. In a time so full of digital communication, it's always a wonder to him how perfect his boyfriend's penmanship is, the dotted i's and the crossed t's, and the amount of emotion that just flows through the script. 

The navigator strips, and heads to the shower. The cage is tight and painful, jostling him as he soaps himself up. He is almost ready to contact Marcus, to beg him to remove the locks, but he knows that if he does, he will be in much more trouble. When his skin is clean, he towels off, but still feels the residue of the previous night clinging to him like a persistent layer of grime.

He dresses, readies himself for the shuttle ride, and opens the refrigerator to find a small bento box packed for him. Pavel's heart lurches, fully well knowing without taking the lid off that the contents inside will be impeccable, made with care and love. Placing it in his satchel, he wonders if he will even try to eat it. He feels so empty.

The shuttle ride is a blur. He tries to take his mind off of things, but it is nearly impossible without having his PADD on him. Mostly, he stares out the window and tries to drown out the thoughts of how far he has fallen, images of Marcus' sickening leer and engorged cock, sweat stink-

Pavel feels like he's going to vomit. Someone next to him offers him a small baggy, and he accepts it. 

~~~

When he arrives onto the Enterprise, he hastily makes his way up to his room, cutting through Engineering. He is stopped by the chief engineer briefly to ask if he wants to come down after shift and shadow him a bit.

"Yes, of course, Mister Scott." Pavel fights the urge to run away, everything seems to make him feel hypersensitive, as if they KNOW. The way Scotty is smiling at him, the way Keenser is staring at his crotch (or maybe he can't help it, the man is at crotch level), the way that even though everyone is absorbed in their own tasks, it feels as if they are all looking right at him. "I must get to zhe bridge as qvickly as possible now zhough."

Scotty lets him go. He still feels like he is being watched.

~~~

A quick stop in his room to change out of his flightsuit and grab his necessities, and he is out the door in a blur of gold and black. He had to stop himself from looking in the mirror, he didn't want to see the hollows under his eyes, or if his bound cock formed an obscene lump in his pants.

When he darts onto the turbolift to the bridge, he nearly bumps into Commander Spock, and apologizes, quickly shirking back into a corner. He can sense the Vulcan is staring at him.

"Are you all right, Ensign?" The other man asks, and Pavel looks at his feet, shifting from foot to foot.

"Of course, Commander Spock. Just a little late is all." The younger man manages to sneak a small smile up at the other man, but the Vulcan's gaze is unnerving, as if he is being stripped and dissected by those eyes. He casts his eyes downward again, and it seems as if Spock might say something else, but the lift stops, and Pavel quickly escapes onto the bridge.

Hikaru smiles at him, totally professional as he sits at his navigators console to the helmsman's right, and Pavel smiles back, fully knowing that he looks like crap, willing it to not reflect in his eyes. 

"You doing okay?" Sulu asks with a hint of concern in his voice, and the navigator nods, curls bouncing slightly on his head. He can tell that Hikaru wants to talk more, but the lift doors open again.

"Keptin on zhe bridge!" Pavel peals out, gaining a grin from their Captain. Now, he can focus on his work.

For eight hours, he is free to concentrate on anything but his relationship.

~~~

At shift's end, Pavel nearly leaps from his station to get to the turbo lift. Everyone is still milling at their stations, and it seems like he will make a clean getaway-

The door nearly slides closed when Sulu squeezes through them. 

Luckily, no one else steps onto the lift. Hikaru takes that moment to thread his own fingers through the younger man's. It is not often that they can show intimacy on the starship. Fraternization is not totally frowned upon, but to be safe things have to remain discreet. Still, Pavel blushes when his boyfriend leans in to kiss the corner of his mouth tenderly.

"What's wrong? You've seemed distressed all day. Did something happen last night?" Hikaru asks, and Pavel leans into him, trembling slightly. It's not professional, and if the doors opened right now, someone would see them, but for the moment, the younger man doesn't care.

"I vas just out too long, I zhink. It has been wery busy for me lately. I am sorry to vorry you." Pavel says, voice small, and feels the helmsman wrap his arms around him. He wants to cry and confess everything. 

But he can't. Hikaru will hate him forever. And though he knows he should be hated, he just can't force himself to admit his problems.

"You should come sleep in my quarters tonight." Sulu murmurs in his ear, and Pavel lets out a shaky breath, willing himself to calm down.

"I zhink if I came to your room tonight, I vould newer get any sleep." He smiles, looking up into his boyfriends dark eyes. Sulu chuckles.

"Fine then, dinner?"

Pavel shakes his head slowly. "I am sorry, I promised Mister Scott I vould go to Engineering after shift. Perhaps tomorrow?"

He can sense the disappointment in Hikaru's stance, but as the lift reaches the deck his quarters are on, he places a soft kiss on Pavel's lips and backs away. "Okay then, maybe we'll try for breakfast tomorrow?" 

The younger man nods slightly.

Hikaru adds in a hushed whisper, "I love you." He then steps outside the doors.

"I love you too, Hikaru." Pavel states, but the doors whoosh shut so fast he has no way of knowing if the other man has heard him.

~~~

Sometimes he thinks that Mister Scott might just keep him in Engineering forever, just because he won't say something against it. But then, the time has flown with something to think about other than the events of late. Pavel would rather be busy contorted under the pipes and gaskets of engineering than in his own bed, alone with the promise of nightmares to come.

He is currently trying to align a screw back into its socket but cant seem to reach. With a small curse in Russian, he realigns his body, twisting and gaining whatever precarious position he can. His legs are spread, ass in the air, and god he hopes no one can see him. Sweating, he wipes at his face, not realizing that he is leaving a trail of oil across his cheek. Just a little more-

Pain explodes in his crotch and he yelps, wrench in hand clattering to the floor. Stars dance behind his eyelids and he wills himself to look down. He's trapped against a pipe running along the floor that has caught onto his pants and somehow pulled at his cage. Slowly, he starts to disentangle himself, tears burning his eyes. It hurts, oh god it hurts.

When he can finally start moving backwards he manages to grab himself and just lay back for a moment. His cock is throbbing, pain thrumming throughout his whole being.

Two jet black eyes and a craggy face appear in his vision, and startled, the ensign screams, before realizing that it is Keenser. A heated blush creeps up his cheeks as he realizes that yes, Keenser is watching him hold his dick. 

"Are ye alright in there?" Scotty's concerned brogue cuts through his senses, and Pavel licks his lips, willing himself to speak. 

"Y. . yes. I just. . .uh. . ." Frantically, he scoots out of the space to a point in which he can crawl out, finding himself at the chief engineer's feet. Scott is staring down at him with concern, and Pavel bites his lip, firmly keeping his hands at his sides. "I. . . ehm . . . accidentally hit myself. and zhen Mister Keenser found me, and I vas startled."

Keenser has somehow managed to wriggle out on top of one of the pipes, and is staring down at him, black eyes impassive. Scotty just sighs. "Well, ye nearly gave me a heart attack! I though ye were trapped in there and would have to become a part o' the ship! Come one now, I know what'll cheer ye." The Scotsman pulls the other man to his feet, and Pavel stiffly follows him, groin still on fire.

He blinks in surprise when the other man pulls out a bottle from behind a wiring casing and winks at him. "A little hootch always hits the spot after ye've been scrapping with a machine!" He takes a long pull off of the bottle and passes it to the younger man.

It's not as if Pavel has never drank before, he's Russian. He can remember sneaking sips of vodka as a child, but somehow this is different. It feels more adult. He takes several swigs with the other man, before letting out a huge yawn. The engineer then looks at the time. "How long have ye been down here? It's well past midnight! You should get to bed then."

Pavel stands, only a slight wobble in his stature. Scotty glances him up and down, with slight worry. "You gonna be okay getting to your room? And. . ." His voice lowers, almost sheepishly, "You're not going to tell anyone about the stash?"

The younger man nods sleepily. "I von't tell anyone Mister Scott. I enjoy being in Engineering. I can get back, don't vorry." Scott seems to accept it, and the ensign makes his way back to the turbolift. He nearly falls asleep twice, and when the doors open onto his floor, he has to concentrate to read the numbers before he finds his door.

When he curls into his bed, he doesn't even undress.

~~~

The mattress sinks in next to him, and a hand brushes the curls from his forehead. For some reason, his head is pounding, maybe from too little sleep. He can smell the scent of eggs and waffles. Blearily, he cracks open his eyes, to be greeted by dim lights, a tray of food, and his boyfriend smiling whole heartedly at him.

"Hey sunshine. Late night?" Hikaru asks, stroking his cheek. Pavel moves into an upright position, wincing slightly as his groin is jostled. 

"Yes, Mister Scott had much to teach me." He admits, picking up the fork, as Hikaru does the same, the both of them sharing the heaping full plate. 

"Well, he shouldn't be feeding you alcohol." Sulu admonishes, and the Russian pales, wondering if he is in trouble. "Oh, don't look like that. You know I don't care if you have a drink or two, but keep it safe. You know it's against protocol to have underage drinking on the ship. I'd hate it if something happened that got you in trouble." 

Pavel swallows. He'd hate it too. He could be thrown off the ship, with a reprimand that would place him on Earth from who knows how long. Always close to the Admiral. "I vill be more careful, I promise. How did you. . .?"

"Know?" Sulu chuckles, placing another bite in his mouth. "You kind of smell like a wet bar." He teases. Pavel blushes and looks at his plate, while they continue to eat in a companionable silence. 

When he finishes, he rises to go to the bathroom, and Hikaru holds onto his arm. "You want me to come help clean you up?"

The younger man flushes at the thought. He would see everything. Swallowing hard, he shakes his head. "If you get me in zhe shower, ve vill newer get to zhe bridge." It's not a total lie, but Pavel feels terrible for it. 

Hikaru puts on a fake pout. "It's too bad, I miss touching my sexy boyfriend all over."

Pavel stares at the other man for a long moment and smiles, eyes slightly sad. "Do you now?"

Before Sulu can utter a word, the ensign drops to his knees, worming his way between the helmsman's legs. The other man lets out a startled chuckle as Pavel nuzzles his cheek over his boyfriend's crotch. His fingertips snake up, ghosting over the fabric encasing his cock, and the younger man kneads at it, before finally unzipping his pants. His hand reaches into Sulu's boxers and pulls out his thickening cock, already excited by the younger man's attentions. Pavel tentatively licks at the head and blows softly, eliciting a moan from the other man. With a swirl of his tongue, he sucks the whole head into his mouth, earning him a grunt of pleasure. 

It isn't long before Pavel is lathing at the shaft, bobbing up and down and trying to go further. He has never been good at deep throating, and Hikaru is considerably large, but if there is one thing that he has improved on in his time being used by Marcus, it is his ability to take a cock. He forces himself to breathe through his nose, throat going slack, as he takes in all of Hikaru until his nose is buried in the helmsman's coarse black pubic hairs. 

Hikaru seems a little shocked, but moans. "Damn Pavel, you're so good-"

Pavel hums, and Sulu can't stop himself from thrusting shallowly. That's all that Pavel needs. He retracts, corkscrewing his mouth all the way back up to the tip, before slamming himself back down again on his boyfriend, humming and sucking and licking away. He looks up at Hikaru through lowered lashes, and is happy that there is pleasure etched onto his lover's face. At least he can give him this.

Hikaru's hands thread into his hair, and he gives out a warning moan before shooting hard into the other man's mouth. Unfortunately, Pavel is nearly at the tip when the helmsman comes, and despite massive amounts of swallowing, it trickles out the sides of his mouth.

He feels like a slut. He knows he is one, thanks to Marcus. But if he can pleasure Hikaru, it's worth it.

Sulu looks down at him, slightly embarrassed. "Damn, I'm sorry. I should have warned you-"

Pavel shakes his head and licks along Hikaru's shaft, sucking down any excess come leftover. "Do not be sorry, Hikaru. I love the taste of you." He rises to go shower, but the helmsman draws him in for a kiss. Pavel relaxes into it, until he realizes that the other man's hands are making a trek towards his cock. Abruptly, he steps back. "Ve Vill be late if I do not shower." 

The other man nods, though the look on his face tells Pavel that there is nothing he wants more than to be in the shower with him. The younger man smiles, and makes his way into the bathroom. 

When he locks the door and undresses, he only allows himself to start crying under the liquid hot spray of the shower.


	4. Marcus/Khan interlude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Khan will do anything for his crew.

Khan had never thought that he might end up in a worse place than the time he had escaped from.

He unfortunately had been very, very wrong.

Plans are nearly complete. All Khan needs is to find his crew, and he will store them in the weapons that he has been forced to create for the insane general that has taken him 'under his wing'. No one would ever dare to think that he would retrofit a torpedo to hide his crew. At best, he can smuggle them onto the Vengeance, hijack it, and awaken them. At worst, he will detonate them. Free them. From ever having to worry that they might meet the same fate with Marcus as he has. 

He isn't worried that he will not succeed; he has to. He cannot allow the old admiral to cause any harm to his crew, and he will go to any lengths he must. Though with anything, there is always room for error. That is why when Khan gets the comm from Marcus, he drops everything and heads to the Admiral's quarters. 

Since his awakening Khan has lived two lives. One being a 'normal' Starfleet officer. Working directly under Marcus, giving ideas for new weapons and technology that might help the Federation on the outside, but on the inside exacerbate an interstellar war. It is irritating. Considering there are only two things that a man like Marcus cares about. 

War and power.

Especially if either subject focuses on fucking.

The physical pain is nothing. He can handle it, he has handled it. It's degrading, it's humiliating, but it is nothing compared to the emotional pain that he goes through every single time.

Sometimes he's made to perform tricks, naked and collared, like some perverted pet in a circus. To fetch dildos and slick them with his own saliva and fuck himself on them like a dog in heat. Sometimes it's only a show. Sometimes, he is mounted like a horny bitch, presenting his ass and burying his face in the carpet to hide the rage in his eyes.

Sometimes he is bound and tied up for the amusement of the admiral's closest lackeys, the ones that always follow orders and never tell the dark deeds that are the truths behind Section 31. They use him, stuff him full of cock and spray him with their come and laugh because it is what they have seen Marcus himself do time and time again. 

Sometimes, he cracks just barely, not enough for a normal person to see, but he knows that under the admiral's scrutiny, he cannot hide it for much longer. The pain of being spread open wide on the older man's filthy cock, denied orgasms or made to beg for them.

He would do anything for his crew. Anything. Just the thought that he has to put up with this much abuse from a normal human though. . . it is wearing him down. It reminds him of darker times, before the revolt, before his rule. . . before he was free and able to do as he pleased and never, ever let anyone hurt him or the people that he held dearest to him. 

Marcus brings him back to the time of his beginning, the torture, the humiliation. The subservience. Khan hates it. He would rip the man apart if not for his family. 

There is no doubt about what Marcus wants in the middle of the night. The difference is that Khan has no idea how he will be humiliated this time. He waits calmly for the elevator, breathing deeply to steel his resolve. There is much that has been happening lately that could break a normal man, but he is better than that. There is a pitched ding and the elevator doors open, and a young man tumbles out, knocking into him. A mop of curls and eyes brimming with tears gaze timidly up at him before a profuse apology, and then he is gone, bounding into the night. Khan stares after him a moment, and then steps onto the elevator, nose wrinkling slightly in disgust. The boy was another of Marcus' tools, based on the smell of semen all over him. It doesn't surprise him that the admiral has other toys that he fucks.

But he wonders if one of those toys could be manipulated into helping him?

Stiffly he walks to the admirals quarters, making his way as smoothly as possible for as impeded as he is. With every step, the vibrator in his ass buzzes against his prostate, stretching him and undulating within him in a hellish rhythm. Were he not an augment, the onslaught would have made him go mad based on the amount of time that he has been impaired with it. Surely he would have come before now, if not for his cock straining against the too small cage that Marcus has locked it in, debasing himself to the point where he cannot even use the bathroom like a normal man. His teeth grit. Someday Marcus' blood will be on his hands, he will rip the man's still beating heart from his chest and watch the light die from his eyes. Maybe he will even take a bite from the black, rotten thing and spit it in the other man's face-

Khan arrives at the man's door and knocks sharply, standing at attention, fully looking like a Starfleet officer coming for guidance to his superior. His mouth curls into a grimace. Pity the fool that would come to the admiral for guidance. 

The door swings inwards and Khan makes his way in, senses sharp and waiting. Sometimes Marcus waits in the dark, pretending he is some kind or predator, that Khan is some sort of prey. It is laughable. But he lets the old fool pretend. There is nothing else that he can do but swallow his pride. 

"Strip." Comes the command out of the darkness, and Khan complies. The city lights from the window light his alabaster skin in an ethereal, ghostly light. It's every time in Marcus' presence that he feels dead inside, that the family he pushes onwards for is unattainable. When he is bare, he stands proudly, eyes closed waiting. The only sounds in the room are his own breathing and the slight whirr of the vibrator. 

"Come to the bedroom."

His soft footfalls pad towards the bedroom door, further into the den of the monster. Were he a small child or a lesser man, he would fear whatever was waiting for him on the other side of that door. As it is, he wonders what left there is that the Admiral can do to try and break him, what the other man thinks will be the key to his submission.

Even in the dim light filtering through the blinds, he stops stiffly in his tracks, staring in disbelief, fury plain in his eyes. 

One single cryotube rests in the middle of the room, bed and other furniture gone. Marcus is leaning against it, naked, poring over something on his pad. Khan's eyes flick to the window of the tube, trying to see who is contained within, but it is too dark. Perhaps he could snap the admiral's neck, wake whoever is inside, and then they can free the rest of his crew. 

"John." Marcus states, mockingly. Khan trains his face to be impassive yet again, eyes moving back to the object of his hatred. "I wouldn't think anything rash if I were you. Now get over here. I have work for you."

Only severe restraint keeps the augment from leering in disgust. He is pretty sure that the work he has in mind has to do with his swelling erection. Gritting his teeth behind pursed lips, he steps one foot into the room, and the other man clicks his tongue. The vibrator in his ass suddenly kicks into overdrive, undulating wildly inside him. Khan winces before he can catch himself, but he gets the point. Gracefully, he falls to his knees, placing his hands in front of him, one at a time. As he crawls along the floor, he keeps his eyes down and makes sure to sway his hips, muscle and sinew rippling underneath his skin. For some reason, Marcus likens his playthings to being his pets, creatures he likes subservient and controlled. 

Let the idiot think he is dominated. At the first chance he gets, Marcus will pay for every indiscretion. Until then, the augment will do what must be done to ensure the safety of his crew.

When he reaches the admiral's feet, he nuzzles them with his cheek, revolted by wrinkled skin and coarse hair that brushes against him. Marcus raises his foot and places it on Khan's head, slowly pushing his face down into the carpet, and he offers no resistance. The admiral seems to be pleased by the submission.

"How does your ass feel?" The old man purrs, words like slime.

Khan stares dully at the wall, irritated that the man's toes are now threading through his hair. "Full."

Marcus barks out a laugh, and raises his foot. "Show me."

Holding back the urge to kill, the augment turns himself around, and again lays his cheek to the carpet, ass proffered up to the admiral for inspection. The vibrator has been battering his walls for so long that it is hard to even concentrate anymore. Every time this happens, Khan just tries to give himself over to the admiral and think of other things: how he will escape, how he will free his people, how he will destroy everything that Marcus holds dear.

But then his body always betrays him.

The augment sucks in a sharp gasp as Marcus reaches down to push the phallus deeper into him and back out again, working him slightly. He can feel his hips trembling, his cock straining against the cage, straining to be free. Lazily, the other man keeps pushing in and out of him with the toy.

"You should see yourself. The mighty augment, nothing but a little whore. Can't imagine how you even came into power way back when, unless you just fucked everyone into submission with that slut hole of yours." Marcus jeers, tilting up into Khan's prostate. The raven haired man snarls, hips jerking uncontrollably into it. "Can't imagine how you stay so tight, unless you were made that way. Something tells me your creator made you just so they could fuck you, with your tight ass and your sweet little mouth. . . being a killing machine was just a perk wasn't it?"

Something in the words triggers a memory. Being smaller, weaker. Easily beaten into submission. Being forced. Crying out. Fingernails carving dents in the wall. Pain. Blood. Being filled with come, over and over-

Khan jerks away with a roar, and the toy is wrenched from him, falling and sputtering madly in circles around the admiral's floor. Glowing blue eyes glare up through the darkness, full of hatred, half mad in remembering another time. 

The admiral's face is impassive, but the augment can tell there is amusement dancing behind those sickening orbs. "Is there a problem, Harrison, or do I have to keep you in check?" A hand reaches out and pats the cryotube. 

Moments pass, and the augment forces himself to relax, until he can finally lower his eyes again in some semblance of being beaten. He drops again to his knees, breathing evening out. That was long ago. So long ago. But the slashes left on his psyche were still raw. He sashays back over on hands and knees, head hung and knowing that he will be properly punished for this outburst. 

Marcus reaches down and pulls him up by the hair, wrenching his neck to an angle that might be painful for a normal human. He wishes he could wipe the sneer off of that wizened face, but just remains blank, waiting. The other man assesses him. "It's too bad there aren't any records of how you were made. A perfect fuck toy. Were I in another line of business, I'd make billions."

The words are meant to sting, and they do. Nothing is holding the other man back from selling his crew to Orions to be slaves, to doing this to them. Nothing but Khan. He tries to keep the fury from his eyes as Marcus pulls his head closer to his ripe prick, drooling with precome that he rubs into the augment's hair. Khan exhales slowly, allows it. 

Soon, Marcus is rubbing his leaking cock all over the augment's face, leering down and judging the other man. If Khan cared, he would wonder what could make a man so hard, so cruel. But he doesn't. Resigned, he closes his eyes and opens his mouth, tongue lolling out to immediately receive the bitter taste of the admiral's sweat and musk. The admiral rubs the tip of his fat prick along the his tongue, and Khan pops the head into his mouth, sucking fervently on the tip. Somehow, it tastes different, like saliva, someone elses, sweet and young, minty and fresh. Someone who cares about cleanliness, making good impressions, doing everything they can to please. Khan knows instantly it was the young man with the adorable Russian accent. Somehow, the taste makes the act a little less horrid, and Khan pushes himself deeper, deep throating the cock with a new vigor. Marcus moans in appreciation, a rare feat, but Khan pays him no mind, already he cannot wait to find the boy, to see if he will be of any use to him. 

With a grunt, Marcus pulls out of his mouth roughly, causing the augment to choke lightly. The other man glares down at him as if he has done a great disservice. Rocking back on his heels, Khan waits, playing the trained dog.

"Anything unusual happen lately, slut?" Marcus drawls, but there is a tinge of cruelty, of something unsaid lingering in his tone.

Khan's blood runs cold. His first instinct is that Marcus KNOWS, but he quickly quells the fear. There is no way, not with all of the precautions that he has taken, and yet, Marcus is glaring at him, tapping a fingernail on the glass of the cryotube. The raven haired man stiffens, worry only for the person on the other side of that glass.

His face is trained as he looks up into the admiral's face, eyes glowing dark in the moonlight. "I am not sure as to what you are referring, sir."

There is a slap across his cheek, more for show than any pain. He is sure that the other man's hand is stinging far more than his cheek, but it's the action that is humiliating. Impassively, he continues to stare up at the admiral. Marcus growls threateningly. "What did you call me?"

The urge to roll his eyes is barely stifled. "Master." Khan concedes dully. Behind his lips, Khan's teeth are clamped together. His hatred for the other man grows each time he has to be stuck in the same room with the crusty old man. Marcus roughly grabs him by the hair, and jerks his head back to an angle that might snap a human's neck, but Khan is built stronger and can take it. He grimaces as pain shoots up his neck, but nothing snaps. This time.

"You saw my daughter." The words cut the air, an accusation. Khan fights a smirk.

"She ran into me. In fact, I think she has been stalking me. Perhaps an infatuation. Master." Khan states, and the admiral continues to glower. "Don't worry, I have more than enough Marcus to start fucking another."

Before he knows it, the admiral has pulled a phaser and is holding it directly to his temple. "You think you're so cute, don't you? I should stun you into submission and send you trussed up to the Orions to train that fucking sass out of you, boy." The cool metal grinds into his forehead, but Khan doesn't move a muscle. He doesn't want to be sent off anywhere. He's heard tales of the horrors that the slavers can do to a person. Anyone else could treat him far worse than the repugnant man in front of him. The need to blink starts to bother him, but he resists, still as a statue as the older man assesses him coldly, and then lowers the weapon. Khan cannot breathe for a moment as the admiral aims at the glass of the cryotube. 

Just one shot could throw off the cryostasis, could kill the inhabitant without immediate medical attention. Swallowing pride he lowers his eyes, exhaling softly. "Apologies, master. Please, forgive me. I have no interest in your daughter." _Unless I could turn her against you._ Khan thinks, but it seems unlikely that the daddy's girl would ever be swayed against her father, could never believe the atrocities that the man has committed. 

Khan needs to do everything in his power to stay here, so few things need to fall into place for him to be able to escape. Then, he can torture Marcus in any way that he sees fit. He glances up at the admiral through the lace of his eyelashes, willing himself to relax, look as subservient as possible. The other man has to know it's an act.

He can tell from the look in Marcus' eyes that he does. But the old man always lets it slide, enjoys knowing that the augment is being made to feel like a lesser being, takes pride in being 'better'. 

"Get up. Hands on the tube."

The augment doesn't dare not to comply, not when the admiral makes threats. Slowly, he crawls on his knees to the tube, and gracefully rises, eyes closed and fingers gripping the uncaring cold metal. He can feel the glass underneath his fingertips, a frozen face mere centimeters away. Marcus rises and walks around behind the augment. Khan fights stiffening, just bends over and exhales softly, willing this to end soon.

"Tell me about him."

His eyes flutter open, focusing on the face before him. It doesn't do to lie, Marcus can somehow sniff them out. "Abram. 23 before freezing. Very smart, very athletic, as most augments are." _Very loyal,_ Khan leaves out, fully knowing that sentiment will earn him no favors. He can remember the man in the tube taking several bullets for him once in a skirmish, which Khan had reprimanded him for harshly later. Those were different times, times when he cared less, times when it seemed foolish to put any faith in anyone or anything. 

Marcus prods him against the cold metal, flush against the glass. He can feel the older man behind him, teasingly close to groping him. "What does he fuck like?"

"I wouldn't know." The augment truthfully replies, and the admiral snorts. 

"You'd much rather take than receive wouldn't you?" Khan doesn't respond to the comment, but he is glad that he cannot see the other man's face. The wizened hands on his ass grip firmly, and he knows what is coming. It's the same as always. He stares down into Abram's frozen face, thankful that the other man cannot see, hopeful for the possibility that someday, they will all be free, and none of his crew will ever know the lengths that he has gone to to ensure their safety.

The fat tip of Marcus' cock presses against his entrance, and the augment purses his lips, willing this to be over quickly, that the boy earlier has already tired the older man out. He knows that it is hopeless to think that it might be so easy. Any time Marcus has ever summoned him, he has been more than ready to go for hours. There is no preparation, just one minute the older man is teasing him, and the next, he slams in, spearing Khan to the root. Fisting his hands, he can feel the crescent moons cut into his palms by his fingernails start to well with blood. The force of Marcus' thrusts push his groin into the cryotube, and it clacks against the glass lewdly. 

Marcus is relentless, hitting his prostate with every stroke, biting his neck and reaching around to twist at the augment's sensitive nipples. If he could, he would use his strength to rip the cage to shreds to finally allow himself a blessed release. . . but will not offer the admiral such a display of weakness. The force of the other man's hips cause the cryotube to rock dangerously, and it is all that Khan can do to keep the tube stable. The sickening sound of the other man's balls slapping his ass fills the room, as Marcus grunts behind him. 

"Such a good little whore. Some days I think I should just chain you in here. Or better yet, lock you under my desk at the office. That way you would be able to eat my cock all the time instead of waiting, greedy slut." Khan's stomach twists, red coating his vision and bile rising in his throat. Stormy eyes focus on the face of the man in the tube. He will endure, for them all.

Suddenly, the cage is wrenched from his cock, and the augment groans in shock as his pent up arousal comes undone, come splattering against the faceplate of the cryotube. Seconds later, the admiral is filling him, seed burning him inside out with anger and shame. Khan slumps against the cold metal as Marcus toys with his cock, still stuffed deep inside him. He is still hard, still will be hard until he is allowed more of a release.

"Do you want more?" The old man purrs, wrinkled hand stroking him to unbearable hardness. Biting down hard enough to draw blood on his lip, Khan refuses to say anything. Still, the other man pumps him, stroking expertly from tip to root. His other hand strokes an ass cheek soothingly, as if he were some spooked horse. Shivers run through him, fully knowing that he is close to another orgasm. 

The first strike doesn't hurt, it's more of a surprise, but it makes Khan cry out in surprise, his body overstimulated. "Tell me, pet, do you want more?" before he knows it, the admiral is raining slaps down on his ass. It will not remain red for long, but he can tell the other man wants to mark him, to make sitting as hard as possible for the augment. Khan's cock twitches, and before he can stop himself, a short whine escapes from his throat.

He wants to kill him, now, RIGHT NOW-

And then Marcus is slamming back into him, entrance slick with come. The burn is sweeter than before, but that can also be attributed to the hand on his cock, teasing and easing pleasure out of him. He can't. . . he can't accept it.

But the feeling mounts, until he is panting, grinding back against the older man's prick, every muscle in his body tense for release. Marcus comes inside him a second time with a roar, and Khan echoes him.

When he opens his eyes, he has to blink away tears of shame. The face behind the glass can hardly bee seen for all the smears of white.

Marcus pulls out of him savagely, and Khan can feel a stream of come dribble down his legs. He feels a hand reach between them and attach the cage again. The augment accepts it, face impassive.

"Get your clothes on and get out, John." Marcus' venomous voice is heading away, presumably towards the shower. "And you better stay the fuck away from my daughter. I catch even one hint that you were within 10 yards of her. . . I'll kill ten of your crew." The bathroom door slides shut, and Khan complies with his orders. 

As he pulls his clothes on, he stares at the tube, already formulating a plan. His eyes burn as he stares coldly at the bathroom door. 

He will save them. Or go down trying. 

And Marcus will BURN.


	5. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blackouts. Nightmares. Hope.

The Nibiru mission is intense. Every moment that Hikaru is not at his left side seems like an eternity. It's far too hard to be waiting at the bottom of an alien ocean in the Enterprise while his boyfriend is off on a suicide mission to an active volcano. He doesn't want the alien people to die. . .

But he doesn't want Hikaru to be in danger either. He squirms in his seat, the pain of the cage has subsided into a mostly throbbing ache for the last several days. It's irritating and shameful, and he just wants this mission to be over so he can go back to Earth and beg the Admiral to unlock the it. He hopes more than anything that it will not be replaced with a crueler, more humiliating device. He doesn't think he can handle anything else. He's been listless and tired, barely able to sleep at night.

Things happen so fast That there is hardly anything else to pay attention to. Hikaru makes it back, they rescue Commander Spock, and everything seems pretty good all around, despite breaking the prime directive. Kirk dismisses him with a wink shortly after he sends Uhura and Sulu for a checkup with the doctor. Pavel blushes, not entirely sure what that look is about, but makes his way to the Med Bay, hiding his limp to the best of his ability.

He's in the turbolift when the pain becomes unbearable, and everything goes black.

~~~

Pavel's eyes blink open to the sterile smells and lighting of the Med Bay, on his back staring at the ceiling, with a soft curse in Russian, he looks down to see his number one fear. He's dressed in a paper gown. It's suddenly hard to breathe, hard to swallow because he knows. He knows that someone else knows. Cheeks reddening, he futiley looks for his uniform, trying to figure some way to escape from the room and make it somewhere far away where no one will ask questions. 

It's a ridiculous notion. Of course it will be reported. Everyone will find out he's some sick freak. . . unless he makes another deal with Marcus.

He wants to cry.

The door to the room whooshes open, Dr. McCoy striding in, and the younger man's blush only deepens. The other man looks shocked, and quickly comes to his side, the scowl on his face only deepening.

"Lay back down, right now! You shouldn't even be sitting up!" McCoy grumbles, moving as if he is going to push the other man back down to the bed. He looks angry, but those chocolate eyes are laced with worry. The doctor is a very attractive man, even though he can be scary at times. Pavel tries to duck away from the brunette's grasp.

"Please, Doctor. . . I am fine. . . I was just a leetle tired from all of zhe action." It's a lie, but what can he say? It's obvious by the way the other man's mouth twinges that he knows. It's already too late. 

Bones steps back, folding his arms across his chest authoritatively. Pavel knows immediately that he's going to be read the riot act, and he can feel the familiar burn in his sinuses. He's going to cry if the other man probes too hard. "Jesus, boy, do you think I'm joking? You passed out. How the hell long have you been wearing that thing?!"

The Russian could feel the blood draining from his face. He knows that it would have had to have been the doctor that had changed his clothes, but the thought that the older, handsome doctor had seen the cage, it was almost too much to bear. 'Not. . . not very long. . . it is. . ."

"It's ridiculous is what it is!" Bones explodes, irritation evident on his face. "You damn kids and your kinks. Play time is fine, more than fine, whatever, I get it. But you have a job to do on this ship, and playing with sex toys during operating hours is a no go." The doctor lifts an instrument, and Pavel shrinks away from him. "Now hold still, so I can get this damn thing off of you."

"No!" Pavel's little hands wrap around the doctor's arm, and is amazed at the amount of resolve in his voice. "You cannot! I will get in trouble if you do! Please, it will come off wery, wery soon!" Leonard quirks an eyebrow at him, and the younger man wonders if he thinks that he is deranged. 

And then the first tear falls. 

The doctor stops, and stares incredulously at him. Pavel bites his lip, but it only makes it worse. Another tear slips out, and soon he can't control them. "Please, please, just let me handle zhis! I promise, it will be coming off wery soon. Please, do not tell the captain. Do not tell anyone. I vill do anything!" The younger man starts to babble, and the doctor just stares at the ensign in shock. Pavel has never been one for outbursts. Slowly, he pries the navigators fingers from his arm and leaves the room. 

With the doctor turning his back on him, he knows it is all over. He'll be kicked out of Starfleet. Everyone will gossip about him, tell him the only reason he ever got anything was because he was a huge slut who probably fucked half of the admirals. With a reputation like that, he can never go back to his family. Perhaps Marcus will keep him. He shudders at the thought of being the older man's personal lapdog, living only to be fucked and abused.

But even worse than all that will be the look of betrayal on Hikaru's face, the knowledge that he had hurt the only man he had ever loved with his lies. Only because he had wanted to be closer to the helmsman.

Pavel buries his face in his hands, choking on his sobs.

A hand rests on his shoulder.

In bleary shock, he looks up to see the doctor holding out a box of tissues to him. McCoy looks slightly uncomfortable, worried, and just a little stern. "C'mon, take one. Blow your nose, and calm down. I don't want to have to sedate you." The Russian was been reaching for one, when his eyes fell on the other mans with a panic. Sedate him?!

Bones rolls his eyes a little. "It was a joke kid. C'mon. Lets talk this out. I know it seems like I'm taking it a little rough on you, but as your CMO, your care is of the utmost importance to me." He shakes the box at him again, and this time the younger man takes a tissue, and blows his nose, feeling awkward at how loud it is. McCoy just holds up the trash bin and lets him toss them in, motioning for him to take another.

Pavel complies, grabbing another to wipe at his tear streaked face, sobs subsiding into hiccups. The doctor watches his every move from the corner of his eye when he backs off and to give him space. 

A good twenty minutes pass before the younger man calms down enough to find the strength to talk. He takes a shaky breath. "Are you going to report me?" His voice is high, unsteady, but it doesn't crack. The doctor moves to the wall synthesizer to get him some water, and shakes his head. "But. . . zhose zhings you zaid, about my job. You zhink I hawe been negligent. Are you not supposed to report this?"

Bones carries a glass to him, and he gratefully drinks it down. The doctor ruffles his hair with his hand, and Pavel is surprised at how gentle the other man's touch is. "I report the things that have an impact on this ship and how she's run. If I thought we were in danger, let me tell you, I wouldn't hesitate to have you discharged." The Russian hesitantly looks up into those eyes and sees no scorn, only compassion. "You're young Pavel. Damn, sometimes I think we all forget just how young you are. We all make mistakes. As long as something like this doesn't happen again, I don't think that we have to involve anyone else in this."

A relieved sigh rips from the younger man's throat, and for a moment, the doctor looks worried that the other man is going to start crying again, but Pavel just clenches his tissue and smiles gratefully. "Oh, zhank you, doctor, zhank you so much! I promise, zhis vill not happen again! I vill make sure of it."

McCoy takes the glass away and leans against the wall. "That being said, you really need to brush up on some literature about. . . toys like that. I'm not going to ask you how long you've been wearing it, but I assure you, you're not supposed to be wearing something like that for more than a couple hours. As cute as you think it is, wearing something like that for a shift just isn't feasible, okay?"

Pavel can feel the color rising to his cheeks. It is becoming increasingly awkward to sit here and talk to the doctor about this, but there wasn't really anything else that could be done. Just another disgrace to suffer. Stiffly, he nods, staring down at the tissue clenched in his hand. It wasn't like he honestly had a choice. He is sure that if the admiral wanted him to, Pavel would be walking onto the bridge with a vibrator in his ass and a collar around his neck with a tag that said 'Property of Marcus'.

". . . and we'll be back to Earth soon. Just try to relax. I'd like you to rest here until then, okay? Then you'll be free to go and get that thing off. If you come back for a follow up with me in a day or two, I'd really appreciate that, okay?" The doctor drawls, and even though he made a question of all the requests, Pavel knows that they were more than that. 

"Yes. Yes sir." He says, and Bones chuckles lightly, before casting a slightly worried look over him. 

"Hungry?"

The younger man swallows and shook his head. He didn't think he'd be able to keep anything down anyway. The doctor doesn't look too pleased with the answer, but accepted it. 

"Well, all right. You just lay back and try to get some rest, okay?" McCoy says, and Pavel lets the back of his head hit the pillow. He's still so embarrassed, so worried. 

He doesn't think he will sleep at all.

But he does.

~~~

_He was alone and he couldn't see a thing. Normally, Pavel wasn't afraid of the dark, but there was something ominous about the inky blackness. It didn't feel right. There should have been some light, the sound of machines running in the Medbay._

_Then somewhere, a light above flicked on, bathing him in brightness. Wincing, he had to wait until his eyes adjusted. He gasped at the sight that awaited him._

_Mirrors circled him, reflecting back his bewildered image. He was naked, collared. . . his hands slowly came up in the mirror to feel floppy dog ears jutting from his head. With a whimper, he turned his head slightly, noticing a fluffy tail growing from the base of his spine. Under his scrutiny, it started to wag._

_Swallowing his fear, he rose to his feet, looking around the room, but there were no exits, only mirrors._

_"Sit." An ominous voice rang out. Before he knew what he was doing, he was kneeling, hands folded on his lap neatly._

_Pavel's confused reflection stared back at him. Why had he. . .?_

_"Speak."_

_He tried to ask where he was, what he was doing here, why he was naked. To his horror, all that came out was a compliant little bark. His hands flew up and clapped over his mouth, disturbed to see his tail wagging softly in the mirror behind him._

_"Roll over."_

_In a desperate attempt to keep himself from following the order, he put his hands down on the ground, but his body betrayed him. Deftly, he rolled onto his back and then onto his hands and knees._

_"Good boy."_

_The Russian went cold as he realized the source of the voice._

_Marcus._

_A whimper caught in his throat._

_"Now fuck."_

_Pavel stared at the mirror images of himself in confusion. What was he being asked to do?_

_"Dog. I said fuck. NOW."_

_The tone was demanding, vicious. Just knowing how much the admiral hated having to repeat himself made the Russian start to panic. He looked furtively around and saw a bright green shape behind him._

_He gasped. The dildo was huge, protruding obscenely out of the floor, veined and as large as his forearm. He swallowed around a terrified lump forming in his throat. There was no way._

_"Fuck. Or do you want to be punished?" He could feel his dog ears flatten down to the sides of his head in terror, tail tucking against the cleft of his ass. No, he certainly didn't want to be punished, Leaning over, his tongue darted out as he started to lick the phallus to try and coat it in some form of lubrication. There was a cracking sound as something swatted him on the ass._

_Yelping, he glanced furtively around the room, but there was no one there. Just an angry red stripe across his buttocks where he had been struck._

_"Bad dog."_

_Pavel glanced nervously around the room, and then at the dildo in front of him. Many times before, Marcus had taken him without lubrication, or had forced him to wear a plug, corking the older man's come in his ass to keep him lubed and ready. But this. . ._

_This giant would split him. He would bleed. But for every second that he waited, he knew that his 'master' was getting angrier. Delicately, he positioned himself over the green cock, pressing his hole to the rubbery flesh. To his great surprise, it already felt slick._

_For a moment, he wriggled atop it, his ass stubborn and unyielding. There was a sharp moment of panic wondering what would happen if he didn't ram the entirety of the thing into himself. Staring into the mirrors, he watched his reflection, a fine sheen of sweat coating his torso, nipples pebbling. The dog ears were perking up a little, and maybe if they weren't on his own head, he might have thought them adorable._

_Unthinkably, the dildo started to slide slowly into his tight channel. Pavel hissed at the burn that stretched him beyond his limits, but didn't dare stop. Undulating slightly he pushed down, amazed that inch by inch, the thick length was actually sheathing inside him with far less difficulty than he had anticipated._

_As he rose back up in the shaft, one of the knobby bumps along it pressed against his prostate and a moan rippled from his lips. His eyelids fluttered and he pressed back down, making sure to hit that sweet spot on every stroke. Through the lace of his eyelashes, he watched himself in the mirror, shocked at just how much of a slut he looked like, pink lips parted, nipples rock hard under the spotlight. Even his significantly smaller cock was hardening from the feelings inside him. It was almost hypnotic, the press of the cock distending his belly and then vacating him, only to do so again. Behind him, his tail wagged, soft fluff batting at his sides._

_"Faster."_

_The cock was slick enough that the order was not unbearable, and he slammed himself upon it with a renewed fervor. Panting heavily, he watched in the mirror as his own aching length bobbed in tempo._

_A heat started to grow in his belly, pooling into what he knew would only end in orgasm if he touched himself. He watched himself rutting on the toy like a bitch in heat, and the thought made him moan lowly, pace growing frantic._

_"Come."_

_Pavel shrieked his orgasm, the voice crawling over his sensitive skin, more stimulating that any mouth or fingers. A white jet of come sprayed the mirror in front of him, thick ropes coating the figure in the mirror. He panted and writhed as his cock finally shriveled, empty of his release._

_Moments passed where he just sat gasping, still fully impaled on the massive length. He wasn't sure if he was allowed off of the thing, so he stayed, clenched around it, eyes closed and breathing heavily._

_It was then he heard the murmurs._

_"Oh my god."_

_"What the actual hell?"_

_"Is that Ensign Chekov?"_

_"Disgraceful."_

_"How inappropriate."_

_"Slut."_

_Pavel blinked as the voices became louder. He was sure he was alone, and then there was movement in the mirrors. His eyes widened in shock as the figure in the come covered mirror stepped forward. Cringing, he tried to move backwards, but was still speared in place by the dildo._

_The light hit Hikaru's stoic frame, and dark features, shadows making him look more severe than Pavel had ever seen him. A stream of semen was smeared across the gold of his uniform shirt. The younger man swallowed as he cringed away from the betrayal in the pilot's eyes._

_"How could you?"_

_Biting his lip, he turned his head away, only to notice that the other mirrors were no longer reflective, but each panel now held a familiar figure. The captain, the doctor. Lieutenant Uhura and Chief Engineer Scott. Even the neutral face of Commander Spock. All looking at him. Some with pity, some with disgust, save for the Vulcan, whose emotions never showed, but were nonetheless daunting. They all continued to murmur amongst themselves, looking at him as if he were trash._

_Pavel thought that he might throw up. They could all see him like this, in a way that he never wanted anyone to know that he was capable of being. How could they even begin to understand that it was all Marcus, not him?_

_But how could he lie? He had done it. He had come._

_All around him, they started to come closer, boxing him in and sneering their disapproval, and the younger man shrank away. Unable to escape, he put his hands to his ears, trying to block their voices out._

_Hikaru's face twisted into loathing. "I loved you, and you cheated on me? How could you?" Abruptly, he turned to leave, and Pavel cried out, unable to move, hands reaching for his lover._

_But Sulu was gone. Everyone was. The light blinked off and he was immersed in darkness. He let out a strangled sob, tears falling freely now._

_"Good dog, Pavel. Good little slut." Marcus' voice crawled over his skin, and Pavel screamed._

~~~~~

He thrashes away from the hand holding him down, nearly falling off the medical cot. Only a strong hand keep him from crashing to the ground. "Pavel! Wake up, son, it's Doctor McCoy!" 

The terse voice bombards his senses, laced with real worry. The younger man blinks his eyes open, still shuddering from the dream, from the thought of those dear to him looking at him with horror and disgust.

His cock throbs.

Blushing, he allows himself a gulp of fresh air. "I. . . I am zhorry, doctor. I vas just. . . haweing a bad dream." Pavel stutters, too ashamed to look the older man in the eye. McCoy's grip lessens, but his hand still lays soothingly upon his arm. 

"It's alright. I was just coming in to wake you. We're docking now, if you want to get dressed." Gratefully, Pavel sneaks a look at the doctor.

"Zhank you."

McCoy's eyes look tired, but full of concern. "Please, Pavel, don't do something so reckless again. You know, you can damage yourself with things like that if you. . . use them for too long. I think it's important that you and. . . well. You both know what you're doing." Pavel must have paled, because McCoy removes his hand and stepped back. "If you'd let me, I think it would be wise to have a follow up tomorrow. Just comm me when you're free, okay?" The tone of the doctor's voice was firm. Not a suggestion. Mouth dry, Pavel can only nod. A doctor's appointment? Who knew how invasive that would be?

McCoy goes to the door. "You make sure that boy is good to you. I'll whoop him if he screws us out of a perfect navigator. Who else is gonna keep us from colliding with space debris?" Leonard says with a smile, and then leaves the Russian in privacy. 

Tears start to build behind his eyes at the thought that doctor might think that Hikaru is abusing him. There is nothing that he can do about it, except take comfort in the fact that McCoy prided himself on doctor/patient confidentiality. Slowly, he slides from the examination table, pulling the medical gown off of his sore body. Hikaru is most likely the pilot docking the Enterprise. If he hurries, he can catch one of the first shuttles back planet side without any questions. 

For now. 

~~~~~~

Pavel obscured himself in the back of the shuttle on the ride back to Earth. Undoubtedly, Hikaru will be looking for him onboard the ship, and will be dismayed to find out that he has left without him. It's like a tradition, they always ride the shuttle down together upon homecoming, and stop for dinner along the pier before going back home.

So many terrible questions he can't answer, not without knowing that Hikaru will hate him forever if he answers. 

After the doctor's office, he hadn't even had the time to get a change of clothing. The choice was regrettable, but he hadn't wanted any interaction with the bridge staff. No doubt the doctor would have to report that he had been resting in his office. More lies. 

All he wanted now was the cage to come off, if the admiral would be so merciful. 

It was nearly sundown in San Francisco, and the light glimmers off of the water in the distance. There's a pang in Pavel's heart. Tonight he and Hikaru might have gone to Italian food and a walk in the park, or Thai and dancing. If they were a normal couple. With a sigh, he hastens his step towards Marcus' building.

It isn't strange to see anyone in uniform coming in and out of the complex, after all it housed many of the admirals and captains of the fleet. Still, Pavel can't help but worry who might notice him in his gold as he walks across the lobby to the elevators.

He waits, head down until the elevator dings open, commanding his feet to walk stiffly inside. Marcus will be cruel, there's no doubt about that. But maybe, he will take the thing off immediately. . .

The door starts to close and a strong hand juts in, pushing the doors back open. The movement causes Pavel to jerk his head up. For a moment, he forgets how to breathe. It's the same man that he had seen the night that Marcus had put the cage on him, with dark slicked back hair and eyes the color of tropical shallows. The strong but lithe man assesses him, the corner of his perfect mouth quirking upwards slightly. Pavel knows immediately that he is blushing, and finally remembers to breathe, sucking in an embarrassingly long gasp.

Neither man moves for a long moment, the elevator springing to life, only to start whirring downwards. Silently, Pavel curses his bad luck. Not that he thought that Marcus would be timing his arrival or anything, but he wants to be free of the device, to get whatever was going to happen with the admiral done as quickly as possible.

He nearly jumps out of his skin when the other man speaks. "Pavel Andreievitch Chekov". Those fathomless blue eyes roam over his face and lower, and the other man swallows, confusion lacing his features. 

"Do. . . do I know you, sir?" He manages to ask, and a slight chuckle reverberates past the man's lips.

"No, I am quite sure that you do not." The elevator dings, doors opening to the basement levels. The man in black steps out, but holds his hand back into the lift, eyes beseeching. "Come with me."

Pavel's throat goes dry. A tall, dark and handsome man he doesn't even know trying to drag him into the basement levels of a condo complex with no explanation? It sounded like something out of a bad porno. But then, nothing could sound worse than what he had actually been through with Marcus. 

The door starts to make an irritated chirp at being unable to close. "Please, Pavel. I can help you. Surely you don't want to be used by Marcus forever?"

The Russian's jaw drops. "How. . . how do you know me?" His voice nearly comes out a squeak. The other man just smirks, and starts to walk deeper into the basement. Pavel has to squeeze through the closing doors just to go after him. The shadowy form of the other man recedes into the darkness of the area, it seems to be some sort of boiler room from what Pavel can tell.

"Hello?" He calls into the darkness, the dim lights of the machinery casting the room in a subterranean glow. "How do you know my name?" A few more tentative steps and he's in the room, before he stalls. Stupid. Why would he just follow some random stranger into the darkness? Quickly he turns on his heel to leave, and gasps to find that that other man has noiselessly appeared behind him. With a swallow, he backs up slightly. 

"I know your name, Pavel, because you are being abused by a power hungry madman." That voice is perfect, clipped and British, low and velvety. Pavel practically feels it rubbing all over his skin. It would be arousing if the whole situation wasn't so damn frightening. When he backs up, the man follows, quickly trapping him against a wall. "I know your name because he has made you to suffer. I don't like it when idiots toy with others." A hand reaches up, softly stroking Pavel's cheek, and he doesn't flinch at the action. Just the thought that this handsome man might know everything that Marcus was doing to him. . . it made him want to curl up in a corner. 

"Who. . . are you?" Pavel manages to squeak out, and the man just smiles grimly.

"I believe you will handle this better if you are comfortable." The man states, and falls to his knees. The Russian's eyes widen as he understands the implications behind the action, the sound of his zipper being pulled downwards.

"No, please. . ." He begs, but feels the fabric of his pants tug down, air of the room cooling his legs. Futilely, he tries to tug down the fabric of his uniform shirt, to hide his cock. 

The stranger gives a small snort of disgust and Pavel wants to die. Never. He'll never be able to handle it if it gets out, how Marcus has used him. What people will say. What his peers will think. Tears start forming in the corners of his eyes. It's inevitable, he's going to break down in front of this beautiful man that he doesn't even know.

Delicate fingers brush up against the cage, and he jerks backwards, the first tear falling. Biting his lip, he screws his eyes up as tightly as he can. He doesn't want to cry.

Then, miraculously, it's gone. Pavel's eyes flutter open in shock and stare down at the other man. Those sea green eyes stare up at him as if he's being analyzed, cage gripped in one hands as if he would destroy it if he could. He has no idea how the other man got it off.

"There now. I bet that feels much better." Those silky tones caress his body. Pavel realizes he has been staring, and then blushingly looks away, only to gasp a moment later, when a hand reached between his legs and strokes him softly. 

"Ah! Meester. . . I. . . you do not hawe to. . ." He keens, but the hand keeps stroking softly. After all of the abuse in the cage, his body responds too quickly. His cock spurts a thin jet that the other man catches the majority of in his hand. Panting softly, he leans against the wall, body spent. 

The other man rocks back on his heels, wiping his hand on a kerchief he must have grabbed from his pocket. "We haven't much time. He will be expecting you soon."

"Who. . . who are you?" the younger man asks, and the man rises to his feet. Pavel can see the muscles ripple under the taut fabric of his black shirt, and his cock twitches.

"My name is John Harrison." The man states with disgust. Pavel doesn't have the time to wonder why before he continues. "Like you, I am being blackmailed. Very bad things will happen to my family if I do not do the things that the Admiral wishes me to do. He is cruel and perverse, and using too many people. He has to be stopped. Don't you agree?" Those bottomless blue eyes beseech him, but there is something lurking in the depths, some darkness that Pavel can't comprehend.

"Yes. . . zhe admiral is a terrible person, but I cannot do anyzhing. He. . . has too much on me." Pavel says, eyes falling.

A hand cups his chin and guides his face back up, eyes probing his. "What is your crime? Loving someone enough to do anything for them?"

Pavel goes cold. How does he know? But the words ring true. All he ever wanted was to be with Hikaru, and now every one of his actions is driving them further and further apart. 

"Vhat. . . do you want from me?" Pavel asks quietly. 

"For now, your silence. When the time comes, I need to know I can count on you. For that, you will get your freedom. You will never have to worry about Marcus sticking his nose into your affairs again." John's silky voice assures him. It's hard not to trust him.

But trust has never gotten him very far. Not with anyone but Hikaru, and even that he can't uphold. 

But he can't say no. Not with the hope that all of this might end, that he can finally have a normal life.

Tentatively, he asks, "May I think about it?"

Harrison stares at him a moment, gauging, and then nods slightly. "I don't want to force you into anything that you are uncomfortable with." He steps back, and Pavel sighs in slight relief. He doesn't know why he was holding his breath in, but he was. "Just know that I am on your side, Pavel." Apologetically, he holds out the cage. "You should put this back on, or else there will be consequences."

Swallowing harshly, Pavel nods. He doesn't want to, but he feels much better, even getting a slight moment. Still, he can't look at the man when he asks, "Please, can you do it? I. . . I don't zhink I can. . ."

Silently, John falls to his knees, delicately lifting the younger man's cock to fit it through the contraption. For a moment, Pavel is worried that he might come again, but then the cage tightens around him and he knows he won't. He sneaks a look at Harrison, who is staring up at him with bright eyes. 

"You are very brave, Pavel."

He sucks in a breath. He doesn't feel very brave. He feels cheap and weak. But the words cause a tear to fall, and he shakes his head. "How. . . how can I contact you?"

The other man chuckles. "Oh, believe me. I will contact you." A beep resonates from the other man's pocket, and John takes out a device, reading something. "You should go. The Enterprise crew is officially on leave. He will wonder if you are not there soon." Harrison straightens to his full height, and the Russian stares up at him. He wishes there was more time. More questions he could ask. But the other man touches his cheek again, softly. "Stay strong, Mr. Chekov."

With that, the other man disappears into the darkness. Pavel almost calls out, almost runs after him. 

Instead, he takes a moment, refastens his pants, and collects himself for the coming battle.


	6. K/S Interlude II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A fight.

"I can't fucking believe you! What the actual FUCK were you thinking, Spock?!" Jim's rage was a palpable thing, dancing over Spock's skin and heightening his senses.

Face impassive, he started to shrug out of his uniform jacket. He knew what Jim wanted, he wanted him to feel sorry, as if he had done something wrong. Spock had to school his breathing, to brace against a fleeting feeling of irritation. Ever since he and Kirk had become lovers, more and more it seemed that human emotions were at war with his Vulcan edicts. 

"It is not my fault that you assumed that I would be untruthful in my report. I have made it clear to you time and time again that I cannot and will not lie." Carefully, he hung his jacket in the closet, smoothing the fabric over the hanger. 

"What a load of crap, Spock" Jim spat, real anger in his voice. When he turned, Jim's uniform was crumpled in a heap on the floor. The Vulcan's mouth twitched. The blonde was trying to push as many buttons as he could to get any kind of a reaction. Arms crossed, he glared balefully across the room, clad only in him black undershirt and boxer briefs. Just the sight alone was quite intoxicating. The raw emotion crackling through the room only made the cocktail more satisfying.

"I hardly see what excrement has to do with this." Spock deflected, peeling his undershirt off and placing it in the hamper. 

"You know exactly what I mean!" Jim huffed in annoyance, but those blue eyes stayed glued to the Vulcan's chest.

"If you think that my actions are unappealing to you, may I remind you of just how many Starfleet regulations you broke on Nibiru?" Spock shimmied out of his pants, and Kirk visibly swallowed, eyes full of anger and hunger. "The one that states-"

"I know what the damn rule states, Spock!"" Kirk spat, striding to the Vulcan. Angrily, he grabbed the pants he was starting to fold, and contemptuously threw them on the ground. Spock raised an eyebrow at the action, it was much like something that a small child would so. "What I want to know is _why_ you were so keen on dying!"

The Vulcan took a step backwards, slightly surprised at Jim's conclusion. "You think that I desired to die?" He asked, a feeling of numbness overcoming him.

The blonde shook his head in exasperation, anger and sorrow battling in his eyes. "I don't think you wanted anything, Spock. I think in that moment, you didn't care about anything, not even me."

Spock's mouth went dry. How could Jim think such things? In the last year, he had let him closer than any other person he had ever known. Clenching his jaw, he walked past him to retrieve the crumpled trousers on the floor.

Two things happened in rapid succession. The air crackled with rage, and Spock immediately knew that his silence was not what Jim desired. Second, he felt the push coming before Jim ever made contact. He turned deftly, grabbing Jim's arm and using the other man's momentum to send him softly landing ass up on the bed. 

Kirk was sputtering with fury, struggling to get up, but the Vulcan quickly pinned him to the bed. Jim's backside was taught yet soft, even with the thin layers of underwear between them. He could feel the tension humming up the length of the blonde's body, reaching an explosive peak.

"Godammit Spock! You let me up right now!" Jim snarled, attempting to lash backwards, but the Vulcan only grabbed his arm and twisted it behind his back. 

"I don't think so. You are being irrational." He could feel the other man squirming below him, and the Vulcan's cock twitched in response. Jim's breath hitched, and Spock knew that his lover had felt it.

"How the hell am I being irrational? I'm pissed at you! You lost me the Enterprise! I have to go back to the Academy." The last came out a broken whisper, laced with shame. Spock had feared as much. Lying on a report was a serious punishable offense. Still, it pained him to see the other man so distraught. Soothingly, he ran his free hand over the area that a heart would be has the human been Vulcan. 

Jim shuddered under his touch, as clenching under him. The smell of his arousal was overwhelming.

"Jim. . ." Spock murmured, and could feel another surge of emotion as Kirk ground himself into his erection. Spock allowed himself to mirror the movement, thrusting against his lover, the sweet friction of too many clothes keeping them from joining.

The blonde buried his face in the sheets. "I am so damn mad at you." It was muffled, but plain enough for the Vulcan to hear.

"I had to do what was right, Jim." Spock murmured, hand reaching up to ruffle through soft strands of golden hair. So close to Jim's meld points. They hadn't shared in that experience yet, but the Vulcan wondered if now was the time, if he could make his captain understand.

Jim tensed under him, an animal caged, and Spock knew instantly that it was not the response that the human wanted. "What was right? What was right was not letting you die. What was right was saving your life. What wasn't right was you, undoing everything that I've worked so hard for!"

The Vulcan exhaled slowly. Jim's anger was painful, even if he couldn't let it show. He eased up on his hold.

Immediately, Jim struggled from his grasp, pushing him away. blue eyes flashing as he turned on the other man. Oh yes, he was angry. But based on the straining cock in his boxers, he was very, very aroused.

"You would have died, Spock. Given up. You would have left me alone." Jim whispered, voice as fragile as glass. 

Spock could not help but swallow hard at the irrational emotions that the statements brought out in him. Couldn't Jim understand? The mission- His life was not important when compared to keeping the Enterprise and her people safe. There was nothing that he wouldn't do to make sure that they would all survive anything that came their way. Such was the lesson to be learned behind the Kobiyashi Maru.

"Jim, my life was not important when compared to-" He started, but Jim cut him off with a slap from nowhere. A stinging sensation told him that blood was rising to his cheek, tinging it green, but it didn't hurt. 

In the heat of the moment with Jim, there had been many love bites, scratches and even spankings, but Jim had never connected with his face before. 

Now, the blonde looked aghast, horrified with himself. Spock wanted to push him back onto the bed, stroke and caress him, tell him without words that it was okay. 

"Spock. . . I. . ." Jim trailed off, casting his gaze to the floor. Just as quickly he strode to the drawers with shaking hands, yanking out a pair of jeans.

"I am not injured, Jim." The Vulcan took a step forward, slowly, as if creeping up on an undomesticated animal. The blonde only shook his head, roughly pulling the denims up his legs, over his rapidly fading erection. 

"I. . . I hit you Spock. I shouldn't have." The blonde tapered off, and his paned blue eyes cut him right to the core. "I don't want to be like that. To be that mad at you. There's no excuse." Jim ran his fingers through his hair, even more stressed than when the fight had started.

"Jim. . ." Spock stepped forward, ready to place a gentle hand on his shoulder, but the blonde sidestepped him.

"I'm sorry, I have to go. I just. . . I can't do this with you right now." Jim's eyes were brimming with tears, their crystal color losing some of their vibrancy. The Vulcan wanted to show him that some way, somehow, everything would be okay. 

But he knew that he would only exacerbate the problem.

Jim left, barely managing to pull on his shoes in his haste.

All Spock is left with is an empty room and pain in his Vulcan heart. He curses both, illogical as it seems.


End file.
